


...As They've Always Been

by CirrusGrey



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: Aziraphale has received new orders from Above and is unsure how to tell Crowley.





	...As They've Always Been

They were sitting in the back of the bookshop, drinking, as they had done more times then it was possible to count since the Apocalypse. Crowley had his sunglasses off in a rare moment of not trying to be cool (though he still was, regardless), and he was studying Aziraphale intently. The angel had been unusually quiet tonight. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” He finally asked. “You seem off.”

“Oh, it's nothing…” Aziraphale bit his lip for a moment, then: “Actually, there is something. I haven't known how to ask. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure. Anything.”

Aziraphale smiled, a trifle sadly. If it had been anyone else asking, he knew, Crowley would have asked what he needed help with before agreeing. 

“The thing is…. My people - my superiors - have come under the impression that your presence in my life is corrupting me. Which, if I'm being honest, is true.”

Crowley grinned. 

“The problem is, they feel something must be done about it. They've given me only three options. Either I willingly break contact with you, I find someway to prove that I'm having an equally good effect on you, or -” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Or they send someone to kill you.” He opened his eyes again and faced Crowley's yellow stare. The demon’s face had become devoid of expression. 

“Well,” he said flatly, putting on his sunglasses. “I suppose I'd better book a plane ticket, then.”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked.

“I'm assuming you're asking me to leave town? I obviously don't want to die, and even though the influence you've had on me is undeniable, there's no way to prove it.”

“Actually… there is a way.” Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. “I already asked about it, and they said it would be proof enough. They'd be able to tell you were lying, of course, but I said you wouldn't want to talk to them but you would tell me, and if you told me then I could tell them you said it and that wouldn't be a lie, they don't have to know you didn't mean it…”

He stopped. Crowley's blank expression (what could be seen of it behind the sunglasses) had given way to one of utter confusion. 

“Aziraphale. What on earth are you talking about?”

The angel blushed. “They said - they said they wouldn't kill you if they had proof that you… that you loved me.” His voice dropped during the sentence so that he was almost whispering by the end. 

Crowley went utterly still. “Oh. Is that all?”

Aziraphale risked a glance at his face. The carefully blank expression was back. “Um. As I said, you don't really need to mean it, you just have to say it so I'm not lying when I say you did. And then we can go back to how things have always been.”

Crowley gave a sharp laugh, and muttered as if to himself, “‘How they've always been, yeah.” Then he nodded. “I'll do it. Not here, they'll see through you in a second if you tell a half truth. I'll speak to them directly.”

“But - but they'll be able to tell you're lying! We've got a better chance if -”

“And if I'm not lying?”

Aziraphale's breath caught. “Then… I suppose we wouldn't be able to go back to the way things have always been,” he said, carefully.

Crowley stood abruptly and turned to the door. “I figured. Just let me know when I can meet these angels, okay? I'll see you around.”

Aziraphale started up after him. “Wh - Wait! No! That's not what I meant!” He grabbed Crowley's wrist, pulling him to a stop. “Please. Don't go.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale's hand on his arm, his expression still hidden behind his sunglasses. He took a deep breath. “Aziraphale. Please tell me what you did mean, then, before I do something to embarrass myself.”

“I meant…” Aziraphale slid his hand down Crowley's wrist until he was grasping the demon’s hand. “I meant, Crowley, that I love you.”

Crowley drew in a surprised breath and took a half step toward Aziraphale. His free hand came up to remove his sunglasses. He set them aside and finally met Aziraphale's eyes. “Well,” he said. “That certainly does change matters.” Then he cupped the angel's cheek in his hand and leaned in with a soft smile. “I love you too, Aziraphale,” he whispered. 

They kissed. The forces of Heaven could wait. And while things wouldn't go on 'as they had always been', neither the angel nor the demon was complaining.


End file.
